


What's Black and White and Red All Over?

by paprikaflakes



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is So Done, But antagonizing the gotham rogues might not have been a good decision, Canon-Typical Absurdity, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Edward Nygma thinks he's above it all, Evil is Petty, Fluff and Crack, Gotham City Police Department Being Incompetent, Humor, Living in Gotham City is WEIRD, M/M, Mentioned past Edward Nygma/Original Character, Sexual Tension, The Riddler and The Scarecrow are not nice, The money is great but you have to play Trivial Pursuit with him, Vicki Vale is a good journalist, What goes into planning a villainous scheme?, Working for the Riddler is a good gig, canon-typical weirdness, that is not the case, the answer is a lot, the beleaguered staff of the gotham gazette, well more like Crack Treated Semi-Seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:20:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25119025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paprikaflakes/pseuds/paprikaflakes
Summary: “So, this is the question I leave you all with. Do we let the fragile egos of criminals intimidate us out of speaking truth to power? Well, here’s what I say to the boogeymen. You don’t scare us, because we don’t scare easily here. Gotham was here before you. Gotham will be here long after you’re gone.”-Vicki Vale, “Writing about the Rogues”They always say such cruel things about them in the papers. They really should learn who they’re dealing with.The Riddler and Scarecrow have a creative collaboration, and learn some things in the process. Meanwhile, Edward's henchwomen try to play matchmaker, Edward's ex is one hundred percent done with hearing about him at all, and Selina Kyle laughs all the way to the bank.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma, Nina Damfino/Diedre Vance, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 11
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

“Who does this Vicki Vale think she is,” Edward spluttered, “lumping me in with those, those _uninspired_ _psychotics_?”

He threw his copy of the _Gotham Gazette_ on the card table. He then began to angrily slam his fist on the plywood. Nina and Diedre eyed each other from their seats on the worn out couch. The worst part about the new hide-out was that sound tended to travel in an abandoned warehouse, so there was no escape from the Riddler’s frequent verbal tangents, and it was easier to just nod and look interested. That, and it was too early on a Sunday morning still to muster up the energy to care. 

“She gets kidnapped by the Joker, one, singular time and writes an insipid little op-ed about the importance of journalism in the face of evil, and blah, blah, blah!”

He snatched the paper off the table and scanned it briefly, before starting to read from it.

“And, listen to this," he began to speak in a squeaky mockery of Vale, "‘We’ve been mythologizing these criminally insane, but even they, in the end, are only humans. Green spandex, burlap masks, cryogenic suits, can’t change that simple fact.’”

He stood up and began to pace and mutter, which, considering he was wearing a tee shirt, green question-mark pajama pants, slippers, and holding a mug of coffee gave much more credence to the “only human” thing. The coffee sloshed onto the concrete floor as he continued to angrily gesticulate and mutter the words “spandex, wearing _spandex,_ really now?” and “moronic _gossip rag!_ ” and turn increasingly red, almost red enough to match his auburn hair. 

“I’ve been forced to be around those maniacs on a regular basis and you don’t see me turning to _yellow journalism_ , and _baseless_ attacks on other’s characters! I resent it! I’m not part of ‘the Arkham bunch’, whatever that is supposed to mean. I respect some of them, but I stand alone. I am an under appreciated _visionary,”_ he announced, as he stared off into the distance for a few beats.

Nina coughed into her hand a little, and Diedre elbowed her, making a throat slash motion. Edward whirled around on his heel, and a bit more coffee splashed on the floor.

“Did we have something to add, ladies?” He said, sounding like everyone’s least favorite teacher putting a pupil on the spot.

Edward had a rictus grin, showing braces with green bands. It was kind of hard to be intimidated by a guy with adult braces and ginger stubble and who looked like he worked at a comic book store or something, but considering they had watched him break a man's leg with a question mark cane the night before without flinching, it paid to be careful. Sure, they could handle themselves, but even on a good day, their boss was still crazy like a fox. 

And, of course, ever since dear Edward's _boy troubles_ those few months back, he'd been, well, more of a handful than usual. One of the problems with trying to date a normie was that, they tended to run screaming when they put two and two together and realized their hook-up was a notorious supervillain. Nina had been suddenly grateful to be dating a fellow henchperson then, as she watched Edward sulk and day drink for weeks over it. 

So, Nina piped up.

“Just wanted to know if you were gonna toss it out. We wanna read the funny papers, boss.”

Edward let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He took several deep breaths. 

“I need to calm down, I’m sorry about that. I’ll leave you to your _Little Lulu._ I have a phone call to make.”

As Edward left to go make his phone call, Nina and Diedre both turned to what they really wanted to read, _Dear Temperance_ ’s advice column. Sure, Clark Kent’s occasional forays into advice, if you read the _Daily Planet,_ might have been good, if you had problems with your in-laws or something. If you needed help with the weird and possibly sinister, you wrote in to Temperance. That was just Gotham for you. 

_Dear Temperance,_

_My girlfriend and I work as assistants to one of the most demanding bosses in Gotham and ever since his break-up, he's been taking it out on us..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pray for nina and diedre!


	2. Chapter 2

Jonathan Crane preferred to spend his Sunday mornings easing into the day. His already awful sleep schedule, he mused, was getting worse and was probably the result of some type of undiagnosed sleep disorder. Or a vitamin deficiency. Or any number of deeply unpleasant options. He mentally shunted that to the back of the “things to worry about” stack, next to heart disease and slipping in the shower, and decided to pick up the Sunday paper.

The concentrated fear toxin he’d smeared on the mail slot the night before left a dried green crust on the newspaper. Jonathan regretted that he would miss the reaction of the paperboy to initial dermal contact. Hopefully some of it had made it into the teen’s bloodstream by now. He ambled back to the kitchen and poured some water from the kettle into a mug. Jonathan pondered the difference between the caffeine levels of green versus black tea. before deciding on black. He frowned, noting the lack of any substantial food in the cupboard. A lonely jar of hoisin sauce and a box of saltine crackers. Laying low for almost four months had drained his funds substantially and he tended to get too caught up in his work to remember to get groceries. He didn't even remember buying hoisin sauce and it was entirely possible the jar had just come with the apartment.

This sad state of affairs wasn't new to him. 

Getting enough resources together to gas an entire roller derby tournament tended to do that. It had taken large amounts of planning, making sure that the canisters would aerosolize properly, not form pockets of condensed toxin, and quality control so that it wouldn't just send the entire arena into seizures, and, of course, hired guns with their own protective gear, to stall the Batman enough to escape.It had been worth it, though. It always was. Watching the skaters tumbling into each other in confusion at first, as the gas slowly seeped down on to them from above, then slipping on their own skates as they stumbled trying to get off the track, as the mass panic spread into the stands and reached a fever pitch as the hallucinations started. It had been a glorious symphony of horror, especially as he had managed to escape unscathed, for once, the sheer amount of victims in need and disposable henchmen with weapons making chasing after one person difficult. 

So, gladly he would eat saltines for breakfast. It beat Arkham's pathetic offerings. 

As he waited for his tea to steep, he picked up the _Gazette_ and started to read. He made it past the major headlines. It was the usual assortment of Gotham brand weird mixed with everyday minutiae. Clock King tried to steal _The Persistence of Memory_ from the Gotham Museum of Modern Art, most of the city's transit workers were on strike, someone was setting abandoned houses on fire again...and yet another Vicki Vale editorial about something or another. He chewed thoughtfully on a cracker. It was stale.

He continued to read and his frown deepened.

Even though it was ostensibly about all of the Rogues, it was fairly obviously about the Joker, even though she had glossed over her own encounter with the clown. Complaining about sensationalism on the part of Gotham’s populace towards criminals was a moot point. And of course they’d focus on the Joker. People worried about the Joker in a way that they just didn't about the rest of them. Even a showy idiot like the Riddler, who regularly dragged the city into participating with his performance art bullshit, didn’t garner as much mass unease. And that just wouldn't do.

Reading about Scarecrow’s crimes just made people feel unsettled and vaguely dirty, which was acceptable, but being able to cultivate the type of power over someone's psyche, that they would essentially use a newspaper as a therapy session...

He snorted into his tea, then pondered the implications. Getting held in a warehouse with a bomb strapped to your chest for several days did a toll on the psyche, not to mention, having to be around the Joker at all.

His first night in Arkham, he had been in the neighboring cell to the clown. He’d wished that the Bat would’ve just manned up and killed the bastard already, if only to spare him having to listen to the Joker loudly doing a Lucille Ball impression to himself, for several hours straight. 

But still. It spoke to an expression of unresolved trauma. He wondered if she still had nightmares, a sense of creeping dread, if she flinched at the sound of cackling laughter… if he gassed her, would she see the Joker? Or something else entirely? What kind of neurosis did it take to be an active journalist in a city like Gotham? Vicki Vale had probably seen some of the weirdest and worst and thinking about getting to be a voyeur to that made him practically salivate.

The landline phone started to ring and if it was another goddamn telemarketer-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you get why clock king wanted that particular painting, ten points. and don't worry, the paperboy washed his hands later like a normal person. jonathan crane has reached the stage of crazy where he doesn't even try to rationalize things to himself anymore. he just puts fear toxin on anything. uncomfortable implications for jonathan crane's mental state? in the borderline crack fic? perhaps. anyway, will jonathan crane get to eat a real breakfast at some point? skinny legend. maybe riddler can take the bitch to ihop. 
> 
> somewhere bruce wayne just developed a splitting headache out of nowhere. pray for batman.


	3. Chapter 3

“So, the advice column gave us jack shit,” sighed Diedre. She groaned in exasperation.

Nina patted her girlfriend reassuringly and replied.

“Oh, yeah. Super fuckin’ unhelpful. If he acted like a normal person it would’ve been, like, okay, maybe but...”

Nina paused as she heard her boss rambling on the phone, something about borrowing henchmen temporarily or whatever. _Christ_ could Riddler go on and on. And he did go on and on, sounding progressively more frustrated with the person on the end of the line. 

Finally he exclaimed, “Well, don’t expect me to do any favors for you anytime soon, Oswald! The discreet assistance I asked for would have been utterly minuscule on your part! _Good-bye._ ” and slammed the phone onto the receiver. 

“Next contact, next contact…” he muttered to himself, as he twirled the phone's cord in an irritated fashion. 

The two women looked at each other. Sure, their resources had been stretched a little thin after Riddler’s recent stint in Arkham, but this was just sad. Was their boss just lonely and using this as a pretext? It was kinda likely, because financially they were doing okayish enough. Not okayish enough to have nicer furniture in the abandoned warehouse, but okayish enough. And Penguin and their boss had worked together in the past, and Nina suspected there was some friendship there, but she heard through the pipeline that ol’ Cobblepot was trying to go legit, however long that was gonna last. Still, those two were pretty buddy buddy by Gotham villain standards, so Eddie was going to be pouty about this for a while. 

“Signalman or perhaps Film Freak? No, that wouldn’t, Philip especially wouldn’t, hm, yes, but _he_ might do...Crane owes me...” he muttered to himself. 

Diedre stood up and motioned to the back exit with her thumb.

“Smoke break?”

“God, thought you’d never ask.”

The two stepped out into a brisk autumn morning, and Diedre pulled a pack of menthols out of her purse and rummaged for a lighter. 

Nina loved her girlfriend, warts and all, but her taste in tobacco products was terrible. Flavored cigarillos, kreteks and now menthols. 

“You still smoke menthols? I keep telling you over and over, those are so grody, like why would you want to feel like your lungs are chilly?”

“You’re going to bum one off me anyway.” 

“I am gonna bum one off you. But still. I got principles!”

She decided to change the subject.

“Hey, is that a new purse? Looking stylish, babe.”

The purse was square, metallic gold with a bamboo handle, and it was totally the type of fancy Diedre liked. Maybe a little on the old fashioned side. Very retro throwback. 

Diedre gave her a devilish smile, the one Nina really liked, because it showed her dimples the most. 

“Remember that bank we held up in Midtown like two weeks back? That lady with the _hair_.” 

“Wait, you stole Bouffant Lady’s purse?”

“Well, she was being really fucking annoying with the screaming. And she tried to hit me with this thing. Seriously, tap it, hard as a rock.”

Nina tapped it. It made a hollow _thonk_ noise. She let out a low whistle. 

Diedre finally pulled out a lighter, after having produced two receipts, a fun-sized candy bar, and a stun gun. 

She handed the brunette a single cigarette and lit it with the pistol shaped novelty lighter Nina had given her as a birthday gift a while back. Nina took a long drag and kicked the curb with her combat boots.

“I’m just gonna spit it out. We have gotta get Riddler laid.”

“Nina, you can’t just say that shit!” her girlfriend giggled.

“Whaat, you were totally thinking it. I’m just saying, he’s been super bitchy lately and it’s not just because the Bat is always on his case. And I’m not gonna take one for the team ‘cause I like guys and you don’t, so don’t ask,” she joked. 

Although she had to admit that Edward Nygma was easy on the eyes, in a weird, angular, kind of way. Pretty green eyes, debonair grin, charming when he felt like it - but obviously totally bonkers. _L’eau d’Arkham_ , people called it. High octane coo-coo. That, and despite her and her girlfriend's _very_ open relationship, trying to bang you and your partner’s boss was never a good idea. The phrase “don’t shit where you eat” came to mind. But, the more that she thought about it, it became apparent that setting him up with someone, anyone, might actually be a good option. 

The back door slammed open. Nina jumped, startled, and her cigarette fell to the ground. She cursed and put it out with the heel of her boot. Eddie was grinning wildly, ignoring Nina’s glare of annoyance. 

“Ladies, it seems we are going to have a collaboration with a colleague I hold in high regard. Gather your belongings. Oh, and don’t forget to bring the spare gas masks. You’ll most definitely be needing them. Fear gas _lingers_ in enclosed spaces, apparently. Ta!” 

He turned on his heel and went back inside, humming happily to himself.

“Wait, fear gas? It’s that Scarecrow creep, this can’t be good,” Diedre shuddered.

“No, wait, this is good actually-” Nina started to reply but was cut off by Diedre’s exclamation. 

“How?! I don’t wanna get gassed and you don’t either!”

It was a known fact that Scarecrow was a terrible boss. Not as bad as Black Mask, who liked to shoot people, or Mad Hatter, who mind controlled people without permission frequently. Still not a good boss. Henchpeople were a gossipy bunch, and both of them had friends who had ended up working for Scarecrow, enticed by the high pay the man offered, only to end up with suspiciously poorly functioning gas masks or left behind for the Bat while the skinny freak went _hroo-hraa_ into the night. Eddie was a lot of things, but at least he was loyal to his hired help. 

“That was the happiest I saw him in months. He obviously likes this guy a lot. He was one of his, like, Arkham buddies or something? I think they were roommates for a bit? Do you think, maaayybbeeee?”

Nina started making little waving motions with her hands, trying to get her point across.

Diedre looked green at the gills.

“Wait, are you saying...Ugh, yuck, don’t put that image in my head.”

“I’m not _not_ saying it. But it’s not like there were _girls_ on that side of Arkham or anything. And he did look _real_ happy.”

They both had a pretty good gig with the guy, so when he was happy, it was better for them. She was used to going along with some of Nina’s sillier whims, like getting matching sets of brass knuckles, or starting a windowsill herb garden, but this had the potential to go south fast. If Eddie found out, if Scarecrow found out, hell, if Batman found out, it might not end well for the two. Villains didn't take hurt feelings very well. Diedre let out a long suffering sigh. 

“Fine, let’s go for it. Try to make a “supervillain team-up"or whatever. But if this Scarecrow guy hurts Eddie’s feelings we’ll-”

“Stamp him in the balls, gotcha!”

“I was gonna say get the hell out of dodge, but that’ll work too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and they were ROOMMATES, oh my god they were roommates.  
> this is NOT gonna end well.


End file.
